


Blood, Bones, and Steel Cajones

by Faelid_Sparr



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faelid_Sparr/pseuds/Faelid_Sparr
Summary: That's what champions are made of. A tale by Varric Tethras.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just fiddling around with an idea I had after my roommates picked up my DA games.

By the light of the setting sun, Aveline half carries, half drags Hawke into the cave, where Fenris and Varric have set up camp. Aveline deposits Hawke gently against the wall, and together she and Fenris block most of the entrance to their small hideaway. It masks their presence and creates a significant barrier for potential threats. By the time they've finished, Varric has dinner well under way- a pair of unfortunate rabbits, skinned and spitted, are starting to cook.

Safe now, for the most part, they are able to tend to the tight mouthed Hawke, who has barely moved. She nearly glows in the dim light of the fire, ghost-white with bloodloss and pain. Returning to Kirkwall hadn't been an option, not with Hawke so wounded and night falling. She had, in her vague way, assured them that she would survive, provided they found shelter for the night. The few health potions they had remaining after their fight with the Tal'Vashoth had been divied out; it was clear the numbing agent had worn off.

She took in her surroundings with glazed eyes. The others had mostly settled, shelter and food secured, and their own injuries tended to. Aveline turned to Hawke and crouched at her side.

"I am here, Hawke."

Hawke shifted her hand away from the gash in her side. "Help me-- help me get my armor off." She gasped, stars swarming the edges of her vision as Aveline cut and pulled the leather away from the wound. Varric and Fenris were speaking quietly by the fire, but Varric had to at least make an attempt at levity.

"You know, Hawke," he said offhandedly, "this isn't really how Isabella pictured it." Fenris crooked an amused eyebrow; Aveline rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. Hawke gave him a pained smile. 

"How disappointing. I'll be sure to spit myself on a larger axe next time." Aveline tugged hard, clearing the wound at last, and whatever glibe comment was to follow was silenced by Hawke's yelp.

"You're all clear, Hawke."

Hawke took deep, controlled breaths, like she was trying to will away the pain. After a moment, she was able to examine the slice, still bleeding sluggishly.

"My bags." She said, looking towards Varric and Fenris. "The bottle of whiskey. And the injury kit in the side compartment." 

The distiller hadn't even bothered trying to dress up his liquor. Hawke could appreciate honesty, but 'Dragon's Piss' might be taking it a little far. Holding it in her good hand, she popped the cork with her teeth and took several gulping mouthfuls. 

"Maker's breath," she groaned. "This might actually be dragon piss." She passed the bottle to Aveline, but not without first pouring a generous amount to disinfect her injury. 

"What now, Hawke?" Fenris asked, the first he'd spoken to her since the battle.

"Now, we sew." She answered, taking the proffered kit from Aveline. Unsteady hands threaded the needle, and Varric covered a gag as Hawke carefully guided the needle in and out of her flesh.

"Surely you've seen worse, Varric?" Aveline asked when he looked forlornly at his half-eaten rabbit.

"I'm in the merchant's guild. When someone gets wounded, we pay a healer. We don't-" He waved an encompassing hand in Hawke's direction.

"In the guard as well, we always had someone else who could do it." Aveline replied with a concerned glance at Hawke.

"You...seem as if you've done this before, Hawke." Fenris asked, rolling his rabbit-stick idly in his hands.

"Not for a long time, Fenris." Hawke tied off the thread, leaving an uneven line of stitches across her side. "It won't be my prettiest scar, but it will be impressive." 

Silence fell again, as Hawke sagged back against the side of the cave, head tilted back and eyes closed against the potent mixture of whiskey and pain.

Long enough later for the others to assume she'd fallen asleep, Hawke spoke quietly. "It was the twins' 17th birthday." Three pairs of eyes swiveled to look at her, but she hadn't moved, hadn't opened her eyes. "I'd been in the army for almost a year. Mother only agreed to let them go to a nearby city if we went together." 

She smiled to herself. "Bethany looked so pretty. Carver and I looked like pig farmers."

Across the fire from her, Fenris privately thought that Hawke could never be mistaken for a pig farmer, but he let it pass without comment.

"I got us a room at the tavern. That night we were in the bar. It was Carver's turn to get drinks. I had just started to think he'd gotten lost when a brawl broke out. Carver at its center. I pulled him out, sent him and Bethany to our room. Then I pulled rank and busted heads in a way that would have made you proud, Aveline. I caught a broken bottle on my arm. Blood everywhere." She paused.

"You were unarmed?" Fenris asked, somewhat appalled.

Hawke shook her head gently, prying one eye open. "You pull blades in a bar, it's the last time you drink there. No barkeep wants that trouble."

"And yet, we still drink at the Hanged Man." Varric said knowingly, a sly grin on his face. They let him have his moment. It was no surprise that Varric was bribing (or charming) the socks off of Corff.

"After I 'd escorted the men outside, we had a little chat. The barkeep had been having problems with that group. When I came back, he gave me a bottle of his finest for free, as long as I promised to stay out of the tavern for a while.

"Bethany and Carver were arguing when I came back. Barely noticed I was in the room until I pulled out the sewing kit. "

"I learnt it quick in the army. We weren't important enough for healers, most days. An arrow grazed my thigh during a skirmish. One of the veterans in our group took me under his wing, talked me through it that first time." Hawke was quiet for a moment, a silent tribute to the man who had saved her life several times over since that day.

"Bethany fainted. Carver nearly vomitted. Bethany always thought that was the day he decided to join the army. Enlisted two weeks later. And Bethany...Bethany learned healing spells. For her sake or mine, I'm not really sure." Hawke pulled her bed roll around her, careful not to disturb her handiwork. "Haven't needed to do it since. She was always around. And after the Deep Roads...I haven't really been hurt since then."

"That sounds like Bethany." Aveline said softly, curled into her own bedroll, eyes on the ceiling.

Fenris said nothing, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of Hawke. Her mage sister really hadn't been all that bad. For a mage, and all.

Varric put out the fire, plunging them into darkness. "Sunshine had her reasons, Hawke."


End file.
